The villagers of Little Hangleron still called it "the Riddle House," even though it had been many years since the Riddle family
    had lived there. It stood on a hill overlooking the village, some ofits windows boarded, tiles missing from its roof, and ivy spreading
    unchecked over its face. Once a fine-looking manor, and easily the largest and grandest building for miles around, the Riddle House
    was now damp, derelict, and unoccupied.
    The Little Hagletons all agreed that the old house was "creepy." Half a century ago, something strange and horrible had
    happened there, something that the older inhabitants of the village still liked to discuss when topics for gossip were scarce.
    The story had been picked over so many times, and had beenembroidered in so many places, that nobody was quite sure what
    the truth was anymore. Every version of the tale, however,started in the same place: Fifty years before, at daybreak on a
    fine summer's morning when the Riddle House had still been wellkept and impressive, a maid had entered the drawing room to find
    all three Riddles dead.